Ink
by BusyQuill
Summary: Dear readers. I have for you now a story of a man so evil he was taken from the hand of God without much resistance. It tells of his travels down the dark alley of insanity as he shares his house with the damned and depraved. I dare you to open the page.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes upon my back. Any questions, comments and such mention in a review and I'll answer them.

Ink

Introduction

He spent two long days with his parchment, quill and ink. He may have found his freedom, but he was still a prisoner in this home for the damned, governed by the evil thoughts aroused in his once pure memory as he scribed his perverted words down for the world to read. If he did not have a quill in his hand he felt the stories welling up inside him dying to burst out and killing him in the process, it was a painful experience and combination, was writing and isolation. The only people he had spoken to in the past month were the doctor, who merely taunted him, the Abbe, who did not trust him at all and was so naïve Coulmier wanted to bang his head off a brick wall and, of course, Madame LeClerc, who was about as interesting to talk to as a wall - he did plenty of that too.

But no, he enjoyed writing. It was a place where he could escape into his own world and copy it down so that others may enter it. He managed to get one published, once, but it was only through cunning on his part. The doctor found out of course and confiscated all of his quills, except the emergency supply he hid behind loose bricks dotted about the room.

He heard the footsteps outside his door. "Linen." They said - it had no effect on him when the words did not come from Madeline's voice. "Linen." The woman repeated.

Ah, the woman. He never spoke to her but he knew her well down to the very last movement of her tiny feet. She starred in one of his novels. She had been in the house of evil for a good year and hated every moment of it. She supposedly had an unhealthy obsession with her next door neighbour who, in truth, was her lover and of course her under-eating. But refusing to believe her pleas they locked her up like a, well, a crazy person. Perhaps she was a little crazy, she didn't know. But by today's standards she would be considered anorexic as she claimed she 'hates the taste, texture and reasons behind food'.

She had dirty blonde hair verging on the shade of brown that was cut under her chin and curled up around her elfin like white face that was filthy. Her lips were dry and in a constant pout and her cheekbones stuck out of her skin like a skull. Her body was straight up and down like a boy's and her eyes were unusually large like saucers, the colour of grass. The final thing you would notice about her was that she was slightly taller than average and amazingly skinny, so much so that her ribs poked out of her pale blue linen dress. "Linen." The only word he ever heard uttered from her mouth. She was coarse and common, he could tell just by that one word.

The little hatch was opened at the foot of the door and he handed his dirty sheets into her bony, long witch-like fingers. Immediately after the door was shut and the footsteps walked on as she repeated that word 'linen'.

"I am suppressed!" He yelled unexpectedly. "Let me walk in the gardens! Let me eat like a king! Let me fuck!"

Everyone knew the once noble Abbe had become corrupt. Rather than practising the heavenly virtues he craved the deadly sins and tried to commit them all. The main thing he hated about being caged was the fact he was still a virgin and was desperate to remedy his life of chastity or celibacy as he constantly lusted for the pleasures of human contact.

He heard them, the footsteps of the foul man who had imprisoned him approaching. The window opened and in stared the piercing eyes of the devil himself. "We have warned you constantly that if these violent impulses and vulgar language continues, you will be punished. I have been patient this far Coulmier, but I have no choice. You will be made an example of."

The door opened and he knew what was coming. He almost jumped for joy at the thought of seeing birds and trees again, smelling the fresh air from the outside in its full glory. "Yes!" He yelled as two men walked in. He hopped up and down and so was restrained as they removed his clothes. They were too busy punishing him to notice his writing equipment - excellent security. When he was left in his bare wan skin they dragged him out as he kicked and screamed in elation. He was taken outside. "Trees!" He pointed and grinned manically before they tied his hands to the wooden posts.

The most disgusting man you have ever seen stood on the platform with his thick, black, leather whip and laughed deeply. He got pleasure out of torture and so constantly tried to persuade the doctor to let him torture.

The whipping began on his slight nude back but he did not notice the feeling of it, he just stared blissfully at nature and all of the things it had to offer. It was one of the best experiences of his life. His back was now red and raw from the beatings. It stung badly and blood dripped from each individual wound, covering his whole body in a crimson paint.

"Do you have anything to say Coulmier?"

"Yes." He felt good and sly. He stared at each spectator with hidden ecstasy as they stared blankly back with vague disgust. "I have something to say."

"Then speak, tell us what you have to say." The doctor was smug - he would repent and apologise for sure, he knew it. He hated the former Abbe with all of his heart, for he was the creation of the disgusting miscreant who occupied his room before him. How could a man so devoted to God be contaminated so easily? It was almost as if he had been violated and raped of all the goodness within him. A man of God now a man of the devil.

"More." His eyes glazed over and he concentrated on each blow that was to follow with satisfaction and pleasure from the pain he would receive every day of his life from now on. He relished it and begged for more pushing him over the edge of insanity.


	2. Chapter 1: A Monster

Ink

Chapter One: A Monster

"Wake up Coulmier, wake up." The voice echoed through his head like a distant memory one million miles away. He opened his eyes slowly and deliberately, turning his head to look at his door. "I've something to show you." Brown irises stared into the room and straight at him, unlike Madeline's who had the talent of looking straight through him.

He crawled along the floor dragging his body like a worm. His face was sickly and grey, his eyes bleary and red and his hair greasy and dark. He put his face through the bottom hatch to look up at his visitor.

"Get your 'ead back in or we'll both be 'orse whipped!" The girl giggled. She had her hair tied beneath a bonnet, so Coulmier had no idea what colour it was. Her face was clean but fair and her body was curvy and womanly. He grinned at her.

"At least then I shall have someone to talk to." He mocked.

"You may like getting whipped, but I do not think I shall. It looks awfully painful" She pushed his head back in the room.

"Ah, but you have not tried it - it is blissful in its own way." He was serious - he enjoyed pain. "What is it you wish to show me?"

The girl smiled and handed to him a small box. Coulmier was past himself with glee - he never had any visitors so he therefore had no presents, it was a very rare occurrence. He opened up the small engraved dainty wooden box and looked inside. In it was a lock of strawberry hair, so soft to the touch. He dropped the box and its contents to the floor in shock, gasping and jumping back.

"What's wrong?" Asked the girl.

"How dare you bring me this?" His tone was deep and full of wrath.

"You said last time you missed her - I found it amongst her things." The girl defended herself, it was only natural.

Coulmier bit his fist as his eyes swelled with pent up tears. "You...went...through...her...things." He found each word just as difficult to say, the last and his sadistic pleasures were lost and forgotten as he returned to his former, vulnerable state.

"I was trying to help." The girl was now meek and quiet.

"Abigail..." He was unsure of what to do. Should he yell at her? Should he forgive her? Should he ignore her? He was confused and dazed.

"I'll go." She helped him along and left the presence of the madman, closing the hatch.

Coulmier's fortifications fell and the army of tears leapt from his red eyes. He choked on his sobs in a bitter lament to Madeline's memory. Amongst heavy sobs he distinctly uttered the words 'Who am I?' until his throat eventually closed up in order for his howls to emit from his feeble body.

There were three short, sharp bangs upon the door and the top hatch opened, revealing that awful doctor's face once more. Coulmier looked up in a desperate plea for sympathy, but received nothing but a cruel smirk that created a burning desire within Coulmier to rip his eyes out.

"You're a grown man - and you are crying." It was said in an amazingly sarcastic way.

"I do not expect you to understand." Coulmier whispered into his hands.

"Perhaps I should get the executioner to listen to you while he's preparing your death." The doctor taunted him constantly with threats of death, to which Coulmier replied the same thing:

"Death would be the sweetest release from a life full of pain." He looked up bleary eyed. "Death is the sweetest release penetrating the flesh of life. What could be more blissful than to leave the world that rapes you of goodness and eats away your soul, your heart and your mind. What could be better than to have your breath snatched away from you so you are finally free from the torture's 'god' bestows upon you? What could be as euphoric as knowing you will never spend another moment with your guilt, nor anything else you may despise."

He could recite each phrase by heart, having thought of them the moment the door was first closed upon him in this dreadful place. They were the only words he ever spoke that could be perceived as coming from an innocent man.

"You are stupid, do you know that?" His captor taunted him.

"Of course I do. I'm very stupid for wasting my life on prayer and virtue and keeping fuckers like you alive, when what I should have been doing was lusting, coveting, eating, lazing about, feeling proud, being envious and filling myself with wrath." He pierced the doctor with his eyes and imagined he could see his black heart beneath his black robes beyond the black door.

"Be glad you didn't, for if you had you would not be so perceptive now." The doctor contradicted himself yet again, one minute he was telling Coulmier he was stupid and blind and the next he was telling him he was on a path of enlightenment and perception.

"You will get yours doctor." Coulmier spat towards the man, but missed by what could be interpreted as a mile.

"That reminds me - how is Madeline? I trust you've been praying for her immortal soul you soiled." The doctor persisted with his cruelty by furthering the former Abbe's pain with taunts about his beloved.

"Fuck off!" The man snarled with immense rage, leaping towards the door. The doctor did not move, so the lunatic stared hard into his cold eyes. "You will get yours, I will see to it."

"How did it feel? Robbing her of her virtue? Violating her corpse?" The doctor smiled with hidden ecstasy.

"Shut up!" Coulmier hissed through gritted teeth.

"I wonder what she thinks of her hero now, watching you crawling about naked on the floor crying her name in the darkness of the night as you rob yourself of sleep. A grown man weeping - it's sad really. I bet she's glad she left you behind." The doctor continued.

"You will soon follow!" Coulmier stuck his hand out and grabbed the doctors collar, but to his great misfortune the doctor had a plan. He took at a knife and slid it quickly across the top side of his attackers wrist, it wasn't a deep cut but it was enough for him to retract his hand. The doctor laughed.

"You're pathetic." The door was shut, leaving Coulmier alone, his lip quivering as tears formed, emptying upon his cheeks.

"Madeline."


End file.
